Aftermath
by Archer of Ecclesia
Summary: After The Unwound Future, the characters are wandering around, dealing with their own problems. Sucky summary, review and I'll post a chapter on your favorite character! **First chapter is Luke!**
1. Chapter 1

**A:N: If this has ended up on the sight, congratulate me. Huge case of writer's block and all I see when I write is 'This is crap'. Anyway, reviews are appreciated.**

** Yawn. This is boring. Send me your favorite character through a review and I'll do a story of them a few hours after **_**The Unwound Future**_**! Warning: me + certain characters = /3!**

** Watching: Tommy Boy**

** My other Professor Layton stories: **_**Professor Layton and the Bumbling Inspector **_**and **_**The Mrs Chelmey. **_**Please check them out if you like this one/have the time.**

** Random Quote: A census taker once tried to take a test on me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.**

** – Hannibal Lector**

** Disclaimer: If I owned Professor Layton, Clive or Crow would be mine!**

Aftermath

Luke wandered through the crumbled remains of London. Clive's machine had flattened a rather large portion of the area, though shockwaves had caused the majority of the citizens to flee before they had fallen into the cave with the rubble.

He reshouldered his satchel, staring down at the ground as he walked. He hoped no one he knew got hurt. If something like that had happened in Misthallery... The boy in blue shuddered and kicked a rock by his left foot. He watched it tumble down the cobblestone street.

A parrot that was previously perched on his shoulder squawked and flew after the rock, landed on the ground and grabbed it with its beak, then fluttered back to his owner. Luke couldn't help but smile; Harpy was finally getting back to normal. The parrot had been acting strange since before they boarded the airship, and this was the first time that he had responded to anything other than the word 'cat'.

"Rawwr! Delivery squawk! Delivery squawk!" Harpy screeched, living up to his name at that point and time.

"Haha! Good boy, Harpy!" Luke's mood had lifted, since he had such a deep connection with the previous science experiment. The parrot was somewhat pudgy, and watching him try to fly was nothing short of a circus act like in Monted'or, pitiable but adorable.

The bird finally lifted himself off the ground and landed on Luke's wrist, who laughed as he took the rock from the bird's beak. All was recuperating in London.

Until that voice.

"Flukie-poo! Is that truly you?" The voice was tinged with puffy sweetness, so sugary that he wanted to gag.

Screw what the Professor says about abandoning ladies in want, he had to get the bloody hell out of there! Luke raised his hand to his shoulder just long enough for Harpy to hop onto it before he took off down the streets.

He had been pitted against the Specter of his own town, the Masked Gentleman, Ferris Wheels that unhinged themselves and chased after him, by the supposed vampire of Folsense, and by Clive's minions, but never before had his little legs carried him so fast.

But, at that moment, when he was bolting away from the source of that noise at the speed of light, he collided with his current obstacle.

He flew backwards, landing on his back. He grunted in pain as Harpy flew around his head, relentlessly chanting, "Flu-ooo-kie Pooo! Flu-ooo-kie Pooo!"

The boy in blue groaned once more and cracked his eyes open, muttering something rather ungentlemanly underneath his breath. The bird continued to chant the curse at the top of his lungs, and all at once, Luke sat up, was barreled by a wall of chub, and fell backward once more.

His head against the cobblestone once more, Luke sighed. "I missed you too, Bella..." A complete and udder lie nonetheless, but he still sounded as polite and respectable as the Professor.

"My goodness, I was so worried! I was worrying you got hurt trying to rescue everyone being the superhero your are but I know that there's no way that you could get hurt because true love always finds away–" Bella ranted the entire sentence in one breath, but Luke stopped her the moment he heard love.

"Now, Bella, that's not necessary! The Professor and I are okay," Luke said reassuringly. He involuntarily began to scoot away as Bella's eyes began to sparkle.

"Aw, my Fluke's blushing! How modest and polite!"

"Bella, my name is Luke. With an 'L'," he scolded. How she had managed to hear the word fluke, as in a whale's tail, when Luke was clearly said, he had no idea, nor did he really care to find out.

"Oh! I know that! It's just that boyfriends and girlfriends always have special nicknames for eachother! Why don't you come up with a name for me? Like Smoochie-Pie or Lovie-Dove!" A mental image that Luke dared not to see again flashed through his head.

"No, I like your name just fine!–" Luke's face was growing redder than Pauly's had ever grown, no matter how great a rage fit the young man was in.

"Aw, you're stuttering! Don't worry, you don't have to be nervous around me!" the girl's face was soon overcome with a blush. "After all, we are going to grow up get married and have lots and lots of kids–"

"Bella!" Luke was, at this point, crying out in agony as he began to pull himself to a standing position. "Bella, why don't we just be friends first!"

Bella was silent for a moment. Then a grin appeared on her face, soon spreading like an infectious disease into a smile so big that it could split her face in two. "Of course! Who's the birdie?"

Luke sighed inwardly. There was no way that he could ever like someone, since that was just weird, though... she did appreciate animals...

**Story over.**

** ONCE MORE, SEND ME YOUR FAVORITE CHARACTER THROUGH A REVIEW and I'll do a story of them after **_**The Unwound Future! **_**Please! Before the plot bunnies disappear forever! Bye! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here's the second chapter, dedicated to The Mocking J! (P.S.) For the guest reviewer who requested someone, I am working on your Clive chapter! I'll have it up after my writer's block on his character is healed. If anyone likes this story, review, then tell your friends to leave reviews and I might post a few more chapters before the end of the world. :D**

** Yawn. I don't own and I never will own.**

** This chapter is for Becky, the hotel worker.**

Aftermath

"Grandma! Come on, we gotta go!" Becky shouted. Her grandma, the hotel manager, known by Margaret to her friends, was slumped over the counter, dozing off. Hotel Duke was about to be under hundreds of feet of rubble, and all the old lady could do was sleep!

Margaret began to snore. Not just her midday nap snore, but the snore that could have woken the hotel guests. If there were any hotel guests that had not been evacuated yet, that is.

The hotel maid growled in frustration. Just as she was about to shake the old woman awake, the door slammed open, and a wide-eyed Max stood panting in the door.

Margaret snapped awake just as if nothing had happened. "Ah, Max. Do you need anything, my dear?"

"BZZZT! _You _need to get out of here! The city's about to be leveled! Come on, Becky! We gotta go, we gotta go!" Max seemed to be in a panic.

"Becky! You awful girl, why didn't you tell me?" Margaret snapped as she slowly got up, standing on wobbling knees. "I am your grandmother! Do you want me to be a real fossil? Help me out of here!"

The maid's eye twitched visibly. She rushed over to the counter, unfastening it as the elderly lady slowly exited.

_**Professah Layton! Professah Layton!**_

Becky stood, mouth ajar, as she watched the giant machine rampage through what used to be her town. Her home. Max stood beside her, arms crossed. He was mumbling about the arcade that had been trampled, a perfectly useless waste in his opinion. Her grandmother snoozed beside her, resting in a chair of the London cafè that had become a bird nest of spectators.

Hopefully no one had been hurt... Becky glanced around, counting the former citizens of the underground London. The majority of the people she knew were there. Even a few of the Family Goons were standing there, bemarveled at what was happening to their residences.

Outside, Becky witnessed a small stream of Future London members hauling those who had been injured away from the titanic machine. She chewed on her lip nervously. She then glanced up to see the machine slowly creaking towards them...

Everyone within the cafè starting screeching and screaming. Becky glanced around and seized Max's wrist, holding his panicking form still. Madness roared through the shop, and Margaret awoke. ÿ gWhat in the bloody blazes?ÿ h

Hazel emerged from the crowd, stumbling over his gangly limbs. "H-hello, B-Becky! You-you gotta help me get everyone out of here!"

Hazel was nervously wringing his hands, sweating, and his tanned skin tinged a light red. The maid knew that Hazel was prone to being nervous, but he occasionally showed his bravery when others were in need, but never before did she expect him to be facing death by annihilation.

Max clinged to her arm, shaking. "Ding! Ding! Ding! Bossy Becky could easily do that!"

"Max, hush," she hissed. The people were sprawling all over eachother, acting like lunatics. Her grandmother was glancing around, fear staining her normally sleepy eyes.

Before she knew what was happening, she was pressing two fingers to her lips, letting a sharp hawk whistle escape from her mouth. Everyone paused, a few of the younger kids plugging their ears. "Ai! Don't trample yourselves! Single file out the door, parents watch your kids! Don't rush yourselves or I'll show you all bloody hell!"

For a few moments, all was stilled. Then, one-by-one, people filed out the door, quiet as mice. Her grandmother slowly stood, patting Becky on the arm, then began to shuffle towards the door. Max jerked his wrist free of her grip, then followed after Margaret.

Then the maid and Hazel followed after the people, Becky gently grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

For three days, Hazel could not hear a thing that his new girlfriend said simply because of her barking orders.

**A/N: Hazel said he had a secret admirer in the parrot quest. I just assumed it was Becky as they would seem so cute together.**

** Thank you, The Mocking J! This was so fun to write! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A:N/ Hi peoples! Finally posting this chapter!**

** Someone requested I do Clive, so I shall do that!**

** No romance in this one. He's freaking mine!**

Aftermath Chapter Three

_There was a deep rumbling noise from within the machine. A brief sound, something like thunder, that shook the ground, but not so much the air. Clive stopped dead in his tracks._

_ Layton, that shrewd man. Luke, that whining kid. Inspector Chelmey and Barton were nothing more than modern versions of Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Flora, though she was a flower, was nothing more than an innocent child. So how did he loose?_

_ Descole. The liar. The sly, fooling, liar._

_ The man in blue let out a shriek and took off down the hallway. There was an elevator around here somewhere... the fortress of his greatness rumbled once more. With a groan, the great mechanical machine began to tilt to the side._

_ Clive lost his footing and tumbled down, hitting the wall a moment later. He groaned in pain, his head lolling backward. The muscles in his neck loosened as he slowly pulled himself up._

_ Clive heard a slight moaning noise again. His eyes opened slightly just in time to see a huge chunk of machinery whirling downward toward him._

_ He screamed, but he, the great and vengeful Clive Dove, could do nothing. Clive Dove was just about to die just like his parents, in a freak accident involving those bloody machines._

Clive jumped out of the standard white-cotton bed with a start. In his frights, he had kicked the blankets into a tangled knot down by his feet. He sighed in relief. Nothing more than a dream.

But... why did that mysterious woman save him? He nearly trampled her and that bloody Layton of hers. No one had ever shown him much compassion... other than Layton. That know-it-all was there the day that his parents died, and yet he still retrained him when he was attempting to avenge his wrongly-murdered parents!

Clive sucked in a breath. He was ranting within his mind again, something that occasionally happened. A slight breath escaped his lips and he ran a hand through his hair. He sat up in his standard asylum bed, strutting for the prison door.

The door was closed, only a small, barred window on the door and one across the heavy-duty metal in the thick, concrete wall. That, the sink, the loo, and the bed were the only things adorning his drab cell.

He lightly rapped on the door.

"Yes?" the polite voice of the Professor answered.

"I know... I think I know, at least," Clive replied. He had slept on this terrible tidbit all night, and the Professor had just been perched outside, perched on his little stool, a thick book in his hand and a cup of tea beside him. This was the only thing that Clive could see from the narrow window in his cell. "Is it two-hundred?"

"Nope. Try again, my boy," he said lightly.

"No hints?" the fully-grown man whined. The way that he could sound like such a wounded puppy was unbearable. That was a trait of Luke's that he had mastered perfectly.

"I'm sorry, my boy. No more hint coins left," Layton replied. "Five hundred stones. If you pull out more black stones than white stones, you win the coins, equal to the number of stones you pulled out in total. Think on that."

Clive let out an aggravated yell. Five bloody hours on the same puzzle and no hints! "Four hundred!"

"No."

"Four hundred one!"

"No."

"Four hundred two!"

"Getting closer," Layton said as he picked up his third cup of tea for the night and took a sip. He looked up and met Clive's eyes, though they were filled with annoyance.

"Four hundred ninety-nine!"

"Correct," Layton said, his face unchanging as he took another sip of his tea.

"Four hundred–" Clive paused. "Ha! Take that, Layton!"

Layton smiled. "See, when you put your mind to something, anything is possible."

Clive laughed in his triumph. He could finally get some rest. He sauntered over to his bed, yanking back the covers, then sat on the springy surface, a gleam of success in his eye. "Now it's _my _turn, Herschel!"

He would never solve this one. It had been rambling around in his hand since yesterday morning as he was eating his breakfast. Just as he opened his mouth to let the puzzling demon fly free, Layton interrupted.

"I'm sorry, my boy. I have to meet someone at the moment."

Clive's mouth snapped shut. A pouty look overcame his face, and he threw himself down onto his bed. "Alright, then. Goodnight, Professor."

Layton was soon after heard pushing his stool back as he stood up, his heavy book slamming shut, and then the tinkling of his china teacup as he stood and walked off.

Only a year left in this prison. With the Professor, it seemed like this time would fly.

**A/N: Bye-bye! Hope you liked it!**

** Songs listened to: Breathe Me by Sia.**


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